


Come What May, Come What Might

by enigma731



Category: The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: The impulse to declare herself unclean, damned for life, had only grown since Vale’s revelation. It seemed every few minutes she came to another related realization that made her question her very existence. A part of her wanted to tell Kai all of these things at once, to hurl them at him like a rain of bullets, to see if he could withstand. That same part of her said that he was going to leave her when he’d managed to fully think the situation through, would have no choice, so they might as well get it out of the way now. But the larger part of her was too tired and too afraid.A multi-part epilogue for The Dark Archive.
Relationships: Irene/Kai (The Invisible Library)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warning: Canon-compliant depictions of violence, psychological trauma

Irene could only hope that the door to the Library wouldn’t open, wouldn’t let her through. 

It had always been an absolute, a last line of defense that could not fail. It had been something she could rely upon, something that she could trust to protect her home and the people she loved even if it somehow failed to protect _her_.

She was counting on it to do that at least one more time, at least right now.

It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise when it didn’t, though, when it swung open just as readily as ever, revealing the unmistakable dimly-lit book-lined corridor beyond. For one thing, she seemed to have found herself in a narrative tragedy. 

For another, it was _her_ body and _her_ voice ordering the link to form. 

It just wasn’t her mind in control. She was still _there_ , still able to think by some miracle, but utterly helpless to _do_ anything about it. Her consciousness was a hostage inside of her own mind, crouched in a terrified ball in the most deeply shadowed corner. 

Alberich was in charge here, and all she could do was watch through her own body’s gaze as he stepped through into the Library. 

He looked left, then right, and made a quick decision.

“ **Paper, burn,** ” she heard her own voice say --

\-- and woke with a pained gasp, the bedclothes tangled around her and damp with sweat. For a moment the terror was so strong that it still had a hold on her, still rendered her paralyzed, reinforcing itself. If it hadn’t been a dream, if she _wasn’t_ in control of her body after all -- 

“Irene,” Kai’s voice broke in, and the thrall of panic was broken, allowing her to turn and look at him. “You’re safe, Irene. You’re back home in Vale’s world.” He was sitting in a chair beside the bed they normally shared, a book discarded on his lap. He looked utterly exhausted, his face lined with worry, though he’d at least changed out of his battle-worn clothes. 

“How did I get here?” she asked, struggling to remember. The last thing she could recall was a seemingly-interminable debriefing with Melusine, during which she was fairly certain she’d been given some sort of stimulant along with her medical care. She knew the Library did that sometimes, in order to expedite the transfer of information rather than wasting time on interceding rest. 

“You passed out after they’d finished with you,” said Kai, disapproval of the Library’s methods clear in his voice. “I made sure you got back safely. Catherine stayed behind, before you ask. She’ll spend a few weeks inside the Library, now that she’s managed to get there, making up some of the more didactic lessons she’s missed.”

She nodded, guiltily relieved that Catherine was safe and not her responsibility for the moment. The immediate adrenaline from her dream was beginning to fade, and she was gradually becoming aware of how truly awful she felt. Her entire body ached as though she’d been pummeled by a thousand fists, the wound at her wrist throbbing louder than the rest. Her head felt as though it was overfilled with cotton that wanted to come out her ears. And the sweat drying on her skin was making her shiver. Plus there were the memories of Alberich, of what she’d learned, and -- if she kept thinking about that, she actually _was_ going to be sick. 

“Why are you over there?” she asked at last, hating the way that her voice shook but unable to stop herself from asking. He was staying away because his opinion of her had changed after all, said her paranoia. 

“You’ve been tossing and turning,” said Kai, moving immediately to sit on the edge of the mattress and taking both of her hands in his. _And I knew you’d feel worse if you’d struck me in your sleep,_ he didn’t say, though the intent was clear. 

“Oh.” She swallowed, the vague sense of nausea in the pit of her stomach and the way that her skin _ached_ were making it difficult to focus. She struggled to come up with something else to say when she wanted to avoid all of her own thoughts and every bit of her felt so very tired besides. 

Kai brushed a hand against her forehead and cursed. “You’re feverish. Extremely.”

“That was a terrible sentence,” Irene said reflexively, though it was undercut by the chill that rocked through her. It had been a long while since she’d had a real fever. 

“Let me see your wrist.” He didn’t even wait for her to acknowledge the request, just took her arm in his lap and began unwrapping the bandages to inspect it. He didn’t get very far before he cursed again: everything but the outermost layer of the dressing was soaked in yellowish discharge, and she could see the skin around it was swollen and an angry red. 

“Well, that isn’t ideal,” said Irene, trying to suppress another shiver. She felt simultaneously very hot and very cold, her head aching. And yet, relative to everything else, this seemed like no more than a minor inconvenience.

“I need to re-bandage this immediately.” Kai was furious, she realized abruptly, fire lighting his eyes. He was already on his feet and across the room in an instant, digging through the stash of decidedly anachronistic medical supplies they kept hidden in the false bottom of the wardrobe. Fortunately they should be plenty well-equipped to manage this without the need for a hospital. “I’m sorry, Irene. I was _right_ there, and I didn’t --”

“Kai, stop,” she interrupted, recognizing the start of a downward spiral into self-loathing. She was too tired, too raw, and too ill to watch him torture himself on top of it. She needed his care and his comfort too much. “Please just get the things and come back here.”

To his credit, he glanced at her over his shoulder, took her in for no more than a second, then did what he’d been told. Dumping an armful of supplies on the bedside table, he poured a glass of water from a pitcher she hadn’t previously noticed and then shook a handful of pills out of different vials. 

“Take these.” He kept his hand under hers as he tipped the pills into her palm, like he wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold onto them without assistance. He wasn’t entirely wrong -- her hands were shaking more than she’d realized.

Glancing at the pills, she identified aspirin and at least one type of antibiotic. There were a few more, but her mind wasn’t working well and she came up blank. Never before in her life had she taken unidentified drugs, would have considered it far too large a risk. But these were all from their own supply, and her trust in Kai was absolute. She downed them all in a single swallow, regretting it a bit when her stomach reminded her that it was displeased. 

“This is nasty,” said Kai, as he finished unwrapping the bandages from her wrist and began to clean it. She’d had that done in the Library too, of course, but evidently it hadn’t been enough. “I don’t like how quickly it got bad.”

“You don’t like any injury of mine,” Irene argued, looking away from it as he worked and trying to swallow down the pain. It was unlike her to be squeamish and he was being gentle and thorough as always, but it felt as though every sense, every nerve-ending in her body had been laid bare, exquisitely sensitive to the point that it _hurt_.

“I’m not convinced that we shouldn’t go to the hospital,” said Kai, ignoring her. He’d finished with the cleaning and was spreading salve onto the wound, which made her skin prickle and brought on a fresh wave of chills.

“We aren’t going to the hospital,” she said firmly. “I’ve had infections before.” It had been years, though. At least this time she wasn’t on her own with it.

“Irene,” he tried again, even as he finished rewrapping her arm and shifted the last of the supplies off the bed. “Given how quickly this is progressing, it could --”

“No hospital,” she interrupted firmly. There was a part of her that knew he was right, that was aware the hospital would be safer even though she _was_ confident in their supplies and her body’s own resilience. But there was no _privacy_ in the hospital, no true rest. She was already feeling terribly vulnerable, exposed in ways she hadn’t even considered possible. The _last_ thing she wanted was to be under the scrutiny of doctors and nurses. 

“Irene --”

“Kai, please. _Please_.” She heard her voice rise and then break, knew that she was practically begging. But she’d been out of stamina for holding herself together even before the debriefing that might as well have been an interrogation, even before the nightmare, even before the fever and the pain. She was beyond exhausted and disgusted with herself besides, swiping angrily at her eyes as they tried to fill with tears. 

“All right,” he said immediately, his whole demeanor shifting again as he caught one of her hands and settled onto the bed, pulling her close. “All right, I’m sorry. It’s just -- I _need you_ to be all right.” The second half almost sounded like an afterthought, though no less sincere.

“I will be,” she promised, though at the moment it felt unbelievably far away. Still, she allowed herself to be comforted by the familiar strength of his arms around her, by the warmth of his body, even by his protectiveness. No, especially by his protectiveness.

“You were dreaming,” he said after a while, his voice a bit muffled against her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There were a multitude of things she wanted to talk about, most of them horrifying or otherwise earth-shattering. The impulse to declare herself unclean, damned for life, had only grown since Vale’s revelation. It seemed every few minutes she came to another related realization that made her question her very existence. A part of her wanted to tell Kai _all_ of these things at once, to hurl them at him like a rain of bullets, to see if he could withstand. That same part of her said that he _was_ going to leave her when he’d managed to fully think the situation through, would have no choice, so they might as well get it out of the way now. But the larger part of her was too tired and too afraid.

“No.”

“All right,” he said easily. “Then can I get you anything else? More water? A damp cloth? I don’t think we’re doing a very good job of bringing your temperature down.”

“No,” she said again, aware that she was still shivering violently, felt as if this might be the coldest she’d ever been in her life despite knowing it was quite the opposite. “Just -- don’t leave me?” She told herself that she only meant that in this moment, that sick as she was, she wasn’t weak enough to be half-begging for reassurance about the future. Unfortunately she was getting worse at lying to herself all the time.

“As long as I am alive, I will never leave you,” said Kai, with such formality and conviction that she almost managed to believe it. “I swear it, Irene. I’m yours until I die or you tell me otherwise. Nothing I saw or heard today’s changed that.”

“Kai,” she whispered, choking on it. She wanted _so badly_ to believe him, and couldn’t, the voice of her own doubts just too strong. “Maybe you should.”

“Maybe _you_ should go back to sleep,” he said firmly, but not unkindly. “You’re still in shock and ill on top of it.”

“I am not in shock,” said Irene, and then shuddered so hard that her teeth clicked together. She sucked in a breath and blew it out again, trying to force it to be steady despite the chills. “But fine. I suppose I will sleep so the medications can do their work.”

“Good,” he said warmly, in a tone that clearly meant he knew she was deflecting but was going to let it slide. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

* * *

Alberich was wearing her body again. He’d fully taken it over, left Irene with no room for fighting back. She was nothing more than a silent observer in the life that once was hers, trapped in the back of her own mind to watch the destruction of it.

He was deeper in the Library this time, in the residential quarters, and it was the absolute smallest of reliefs that nothing was on fire. But then he knocked at one of the doors and Irene recognized it an instant too late.

She tried to scream, tried to hobble him, tried to do _anything at all_ as her mother opened the door. 

“Irene!” she said brightly, and moved immediately to hug the body that Irene no longer controlled. 

_'This is just for you'_ , Alberich’s voice said in her head as he caught her mother in a choke hold.

 _'No,'_ said Irene, fully aware that no sound was coming out of her actual mouth. She and her mother were utterly at Alberich’s mercy -- and Irene knew full well he didn’t have a single shred of that. _'No, please, you already have me…'_

“Remember this, Ray,” Alberich said aloud, and snapped her mother’s neck in one casual movement, letting her body fall to the floor like a sack of so many potatoes.

She was still trying to scream when she came back to full wakefulness with an unpleasant jolt, her whole body flinching with it. Kai was still in bed with her, still had an arm around her waist and managed to catch her before she could hurl herself off the edge in the residual panic.

“Irene?” His face was full of concern, though he was clearly trying to be reassuring. “Irene, what is it?”

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she’d last been awake - it felt simultaneously very short and overwhelmingly long. Her wrist felt as though it was on fire, hot while the rest of her remained terribly chilled. It was throbbing in tandem with her head and her heart, her guts twisting with nausea. She felt even more exhausted than before, as though she’d been fighting in her sleep -- or as though someone else had been using her body for it.

“What if there’s a part of him -- still here?” she managed finally, hating how small and fragile her voice sounded and feeling like she might be sick on the words at the same time. “Still -- _in me_ just -- just waiting?”

“There isn’t,” said Kai, brushing soaked hair back off her forehead again. His palm felt almost cool against her skin, and she was aware on some distant level that that meant her temperature must be _very_ high. 

“You don’t know that,” she insisted, fresh panic rising like bile at the back of her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Everything still felt far away and a bit blurred, like she was still in the dream or -- or relegated to the back of her own mind. “You _can’t_ know that.”

“Irene --”

“Maybe _that_ was his plan all along.” The terror had hold of her every bit as much as the chills that were still wracking her body -- perhaps even more. “Let us think we’d won, lie in wait, then use my body to get to you, to the Library -- maybe _he’s_ the infection.”

“Irene, stop,” Kai interrupted sharply, his hand against her cheek now and his eyes almost frantic. “Stop. I _can_ and I _do_ know that Alberich is not possessing you now. For one thing, he still can’t enter this world. And for another, if you were contaminated with his chaos, _I would know_.” He pressed a kiss to her temple as if to prove that point.

“I saw him -- burning the Library,” she managed finally, though she still didn’t really want to talk about the nightmares. She needed him to know, though -- needed him to tell her that these things _weren’t_ evidence of her worst fears coming true. “I saw him kill my mother. He snapped her neck, just like -- But he was wearing _my_ body. He was _me_.”

“It’s the fever,” said Kai, his conviction so firm that she was terribly tempted to believe him. “I think it’s getting worse. I _am_ worried about that, but not about Alberich being in your head.”

“Alberich is much worse than a fever,” she insisted, aware that she wasn’t making much sense. It was very difficult to think, to stay awake. She still felt terribly cold, and she was reminded abruptly of Ao Ji and his ice storm. She had wanted to drift off then, and she did now too. It would be much simpler to not think, to not be conscious or responsible for anything for a while. 

“He is _not here_ ,” Kai insisted. “He doesn’t have you.”

He was wrong about that, she thought, but at the moment she was too tired to do anything about it. At the moment she was too tired to do anything but close her eyes and try not to think about the sound her mother’s body had made as it fell to the floor.

* * *

Time ceased to be real after that.

In all fairness, reality did too -- which was a maddeningly redundant sentence and yet the only way to describe what she was experiencing.

She wasn’t asleep, exactly, because there was nothing restful about it. She felt simultaneously in her body and out of it, fighting both with and for it, almost as though Alberich truly was still there somewhere, somehow, as though Alberich was poisoning her.

He was there in her mind, his voice a constant in her ear, chanting indecipherable words in the Language. She was back in his library of chaos, was with him in the archive, was a baby again, cradled somehow in _his_ belly and in that of the Library. She was freezing and burning by turns. 

There were snatches of other things too -- looking down at her own body in the bed, seeing the way it was shuddering and thrashing in a truly inhuman way. Feeling nothing but an odd numb horror at that revelation.

Kai begging her to drink water, to take more of the pills. She struggled to get them between teeth that were chattering violently, managed somehow to swallow, only to vomit them back up minutes later when her stomach decided to turn on her along with everything else. 

There was a worm in her wrist, writhing under the skin, trying to tear its way through. Or -- not a worm but a cerebral controller and not her wrist but the back of her neck. She tried to fight it, tried to tear at it, but not a single bit of her body would obey.

Vale’s voice next, sharp and firm, giving orders of some sort. And then she was strapped to the table in the archive, Lady Guantes standing over her, broken neck bent at a grotesquely unnatural angle. 

Icy water on her face, her stomach, her sides, rendering her temporarily incapable of breathing.

Kai standing over her, except that it wasn’t really him, because he was dead. His face, his eyes, fundamentally _wrong_ degrading again and again only to be remade each time. And still, Alberich, inside of her head -- wearing her body and pulling all of the strings.

Then she was falling into the rift between worlds, falling into darkness and color, falling without end.

* * *

It was dark outside when she came back to herself, though she had no concept of how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days for all she knew. She was absolutely drenched, the bedclothes sodden around her and sweat in various stages of drying sticky on her skin. Her head and her wrist still ached, but it was quiet and dull in comparison to the way they’d been screaming before. Most importantly, she could _think_ again. 

Kai was sprawled out on his side a few inches away, not quite touching her. His eyes were closed but his breathing was far shallower than it normally was in sleep. His hair and his clothes were rumpled, and he looked absolutely shattered in a way that she had seldom seen. There were deep shadows under his eyes, practically bruises against his pale skin. And the lines of exhaustion and concern were so prominent that it almost looked as though he’d aged a decade or two. 

As she watched, his eyes came open and then widened in panic. He sat up in a rush and then winced at the movement. “Irene?”

“I’m all right.” It wasn’t _precisely_ true, but it was far more accurate now than it had been earlier. She laid a hand on his arm and abruptly became aware that she wasn’t shivering anymore, though she felt weak in a way that she hadn’t for a long time. “Are you?”

“I --” He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then shifted closer, touching his palm to her forehead. He nodded almost frantically, then lifted her wrist to inspect it. The relief that came over him was palpable, so intense that for a moment it seemed he might actually break down entirely. “Oh, thank gods. Your fever’s broken.”

“As I do believe I told you it would.” Vale’s voice made her stiffen in shock, and she turned to find him seated at the vanity, half-heartedly paging through one of the reference books she recognized as having been on the desk in her study. She had been so focused on Kai that she had failed to notice his presence at all, which would have been embarrassing under other circumstances. As it was, she was too tired to spare that sort of emotion.

“You were worried too,” said Kai, reaching across to pour another glass of water and handing it to Irene. For the moment, he appeared to have pulled himself together, composure firmly back in place, though she made a mental note to demand a real answer about how he was doing later.

“I was,” Vale allowed. “And nevertheless, I did tell you that the fever required time to run its course.”

Irene took a sip of the water, realizing that her throat was dry. She supposed that made sense, given how much she’d apparently managed to sweat over the past interval. “I thought I’d dreamed you.”

“You very well may have,” said Vale. He closed the book and set it on the vanity, then moved over to sit on the foot of the bed. “The mind does process bits of the real world in dreams, so I suppose a fever dream could be a particularly vivid representation of actual events.” 

For a moment Irene was struck by the odd, intense intimacy of finding herself in such an uncharacteristically vulnerable state, flanked by the two of them on either side of her. At another point in her life -- not so long ago, in fact -- she would have been horrified. But right now it only made her feel safer. “I don’t believe I said there was anything vivid or otherwise odd about you in my dreams.”

“Irene, you’ve been delirious,” said Kai, his tone tentative, like he was afraid that knowing might somehow damage her further. “Confused, hallucinating. I didn’t --” His voice caught, betraying the calm facade, and he cleared his throat roughly. “I didn’t know what to do, so I had the housekeeper fetch Vale. I’m sorry. I am -- inexperienced with human maladies, and I wanted to honor your wish to avoid the hospital if possible.”

She looked back and forth between the two of them, taking that in. She _hated_ the idea of being in such a state, and of putting either of them through it with her, particularly after -- well, now that they knew what she _was_. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden, and it was worse if it was related to Alberich in any way. (Though now a small voice in the back of her head reminded her that _everything_ was related to him, in a way, because _she_ was.) Still, if there was anyone she could trust with this sort of weakness, she knew it was Kai and Vale. She was fortunate to have them both, no matter what demons might try to tell her it was a liability. 

“Thank you,” she said finally, then set the glass back on the bedside table so that she could lay a hand on each of theirs. “Truly.” 

Vale looked down at their hands, then back up at her. He shrugged, but it was clear that her meaning had connected. “Strongrock had already done everything necessary, and certainly had access to more modern drugs, which appear to be working.”

She nodded, taking that in. Her ability to think was most definitely improved -- in that she was able to do it again at all -- but it was still taking considerably more effort than usual and her energy was not plentiful at the moment. “What time is it? How long was I -- out, I suppose?”

Kai looked as if he was going to respond, but didn’t quite manage to compose himself in time to beat Vale to it. “It’s late -- nearly three in the morning. And to your second question, about twelve hours, based on what Strongrock told me.”

“You should be asleep!” she said reflexively, feeling an immediate stab of guilt that anyone should have to be awake at this hour on her behalf. Well, on behalf of her personal health. She’d kept plenty of people up at all hours for the sake of various assignments. “Both of you.”

“Irene…” Kai shook his head, apparently still unable to articulate a response, which spoke to his level of exhaustion in itself. Still, she could imagine what it would be -- some conviction about how he would never be able to sleep while she was in any sort of danger. The fact that she would say exactly the same thing in his position didn’t make her feel any better about it. 

Vale looked back and forth between the two of them, undoubtedly intuiting that silent exchange. “You know I have no respect for sleep, Winters, so there’s no need for regret. But if you would like privacy, I am happy to retire for the night.”

“You’re staying?” asked Kai, sounding apprehensive -- or _more_ apprehensive than he had been. 

Vale nodded, inclining his head toward the study on the other side of the hall. It featured a couch he sometimes used as a guest room on occasions such as this one when he found himself at the embassy in small hours of the morning. “You’ll know where to find me if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Irene told him again, fully aware that there weren’t words to properly express the depth of what she owed him.

He inclined his head and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Immediately the energy in the room changed, Kai’s anxiety palpable, practically radiating off of him though his outward appearance hadn’t changed.

“What can I get you?” he asked, the desperate edge to his voice saying that he would gladly turn the world upside down and inside out of only there was _something_ he could offer to help. “Tea? Something to eat? Or --”

“No,” said Irene, becoming aware that she was still vaguely repulsed, mildly nauseated by the idea of eating right now. Probably from the medications but unpleasant nonetheless. There were things she wanted, though. “I need to wash up and change. I feel disgusting.”

For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, probably to tell her that she ought to remain in bed longer. But then he nodded and got to his feet. “Let me go start the bath, and then I’ll help you over there. Unless you’d rather I just bring you a wash basin?”

She shook her head, though it was clear he would prefer for her to stay in bed. “A bath sounds nice.”

Kai nodded, then hesitated for a long moment. She could see him warring with himself, with his fears, and then forcibly making the decision to leave the room. He did so decisively but quickly, glancing back at her over his shoulder. 

Irene stretched gingerly, aware that her muscles were tired and sore from the variety of recent ordeals she’d put them through. Her wrist still hurt, especially when she flexed it, but the skin around the wound didn’t feel quite as hot or tight as it had. Putting her feet on the floor made her head spin for a moment, but then it passed. She was about to try standing when Kai came back in, surprising her. 

“Done already?” For a moment she wondered whether she’d lost time again, because it definitely hadn’t been long enough to fill the tub. But looking at him and the way he was still radiating protective worry, another possibility occurred to her. “Did you -- command the water to fill the tub more quickly?”

He avoided her gaze. “Let me help you up.”

“I can walk,” said Irene, but took his hands and allowed him to assist her in getting to her feet. In truth she wasn’t entirely certain, but there was no reason she _shouldn’t_ be able to do it in theory. So far, so good. 

“Careful,” said Kai, as though he expected her to overestimate her abilities and collapse in a heap. Which...all right, that might have been fair, though she certainly liked to think she generally managed something more dignified than _a heap_ when falling to the ground.

“I’m always careful,” she said archly, but she allowed him to support her as they made their way down the hall. She’d hoped to get a smile out of him with that clear absurdity, but if anything he only grew more tense.

The bathroom was pleasantly warm and a bit steamy, the tub filled as promised, definitely the result of Kai’s water affinity. Still, she wasn’t going to complain about that. It was a relief to get out of her sweat-soaked clothes, and she did it eagerly, allowing _those_ to fall in an actual heap. Fortunately _she_ wasn’t having any problems remaining upright.When she’d finished and turned around, though, she was surprised to find Kai still dressed, watching her instead of moving to do anything at all. 

She sighed. “Aren’t you joining me?” There still was the small voice in the back of her mind trying to insist that things had changed between them, that he was disgusted by her. Which would be understandable -- she was currently disgusted by herself and wondering about the state of her sanity as well.

“Yes,” said Kai. “I mean, assuming you want me to.”

“I thought that was a given,” she pressed. True, they didn’t _always_ share a bath or shower, but in a situation like this...

“I didn’t like to assume,” he said stiffly, and took off his shirt, folding it before he put it down. He was methodical in his undressing as nearly always, but there was still a tension in him that bothered her. 

She ought to let it go, she knew. She ought to be grateful for the care he was giving her and leave it at that. The rational part of her knew that he wouldn’t be here -- wouldn’t be doing any of this -- had his opinion of her truly changed. She _knew_ his values and his behavior, and he’d given her his word besides. But she’d had her very existence upended, could still practically _feel_ Alberich’s voice in her ear, and she was just too tired to fight off the doubts. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, instead of letting it go and getting into the bath. It was a mistake and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Nothing is wrong,” he said predictably. “You should get in the tub before the water cools too much.”

She crossed her arms. “You _can_ tell me, you know. I know that you want to protect me, but I’m all right now.”

He set his jaw, the counterpart of her movement. “Get in the tub, Irene.”

“You know that refusing to answer really does the opposite of making me believe you’re all right?” she pressed. She was determined now, more worried about him than doubting herself.

“Because you’ve already made your mind up that I’m not, yes?” His composure -- what had been left of it anyway -- was on the verge of breaking. She shouldn’t have seen that as a victory, and yet somehow it felt more familiar than the cold facade. 

“Because I _know_ you,” said Irene. “Because I can tell when you’re keeping things from me. And because I _thought_ we had agreed to be honest with each other, and right now you aren’t.”

“I thought you were dying!” he snarled, scale patterns blooming over his face and chest, the biggest loss of control she’d seen in weeks. “Everything we’ve been through, and I thought I was going to lose you to a fever. I thought maybe you were right, that he’d _done_ something.”

“Kai --” 

She moved to embrace him and he took a step back, eyes flashing with fire that looked more like anguish than anger. “Don’t. Please. I can’t -- Just let me help you, all right?”

Irene sighed, trying to bite back the hurt and the doubts that were still trying to overtake her. She _knew_ that this was his pride and protectiveness talking, that he was doing his best to take care of her, but it was the opposite of what she needed at the moment. “Fine. I’m getting into the tub.”

He moved to help her, predictably, but he’d backed too far away across the room and she pointedly ignored him. It was petty and she knew it, but it was one thing in this entire trainwreck of a day that she _could_ control, and she was going to do it. Fortunately her body chose to continue cooperating, and she managed to get into the tub without difficulty. The water was at exactly the right temperature, and it was an immediate comfort. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the steam and enjoying the way the heat soothed muscles sore from fever. 

She was uncertain exactly how much time had passed, but she quickly became aware that it was far longer than it should have taken for Kai to join her. When she opened her eyes again, he was still standing rooted to the same spot, his expression a mix of defeated and absolutely agonized. The doubts would be back, she was certain, but right now they had gone silent. She recognized what was going on, the struggle between the desire to follow his instincts and the impulse to punish himself. It was an artifact of his upbringing, she knew, and it never failed to make her heart ache.Upset with him as she might be, she _would not_ contribute to that.

“Kai,” she said on another sigh, determined not to snap at him. They’d been down that particular route too many times before, and it never went anywhere good. They were both better than the sum of their past mistakes. “You torturing yourself isn’t helpful, and don’t you dare tell me that’s not what you’re doing. _Come here_.”

He bit his lip, hesitating, then moved decisively to cross the room and climb into the tub behind her. It was too small a space for him to avoid touching her, and she could feel the tension in every muscle of his body. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there, she knew -- It was that he was fighting to control himself, to avoid what he’d consider a show of weakness. It hurt because it was such a contrast to the vulnerability he normally allowed himself with her these days, but at the same time she supposed that was a sign of how far they’d come. 

“I’m all right,” she promised, more honestly this time, less defensively. He’d told her not to hug him, so she settled for taking one of his hands instead, gratified when he didn’t pull it away. “Or -- not completely, but all right enough. I’m not dying. You’re not going to hurt me if you can’t be strong right now.”

He took one long breath, then another, relaxing enough to wrap his free arm around her. Leaning closer, he rested his chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. You are _so strong_ , Irene. And so clever. You always find a way. Sometimes I forget that you’re still human, that things like fever can incapacitate you.”

She swallowed, feeling a familiar guilt over that. It wasn’t the fact that she _was_ human, but that it made her so much more mortal than he was -- and that _that_ was bound to hurt him eventually. She’d had that particular thought countless times, only now it came with a new one as well, which she couldn’t yet classify as better or worse. “Am I, though? Human? If I never should have been born, if -- if Alberich had to enlist deep chaos magic…” She couldn’t quite finish the thought aloud.

He considered, and it was clear in the way that his grasp tightened on her that this hadn’t occurred to him before. Not that either of them had had much opportunity for deep thought recently. “Well, you’re not Fae. Not even part, like Vale. I’d be able to tell.”

“Can you tell if someone is -- human?” she asked, the word sticking in her throat. That seemed to be happening with a lot of words lately.

Kai was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “Not -- precisely? I can tell if someone is Fae, and of course I can recognize another dragon. Spirits are obvious too. But humans are -- well, _not_ any of those things, to my senses. So if one were not any of those things and also _not_ human, then I don’t know if I’d be able to tell.”

“I notice you didn’t say if _I_ weren’t human,” said Irene. He’d chosen his words carefully.

“You didn’t either,” he pointed out. “You phrased it as a hypothetical so I did the same.”

She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time recently. “So there’s no way to know. Or at least --- no way that I _know of_ to know.” And that was only one of the unpleasant things she now had to ponder, though right now it was at the forefront.

“You know it doesn’t matter to me, right?” He kissed the side of her neck, pulling her into his lap so that he could get closer. The tension was gone, at least for now, and he’d managed to bury the panic and anguish that had been so close to the surface only moments before, all calm strength again. She knew better, though, and she still planned to confront him about it eventually.

“I know that’s -- what you think,” she said carefully, not wanting to tip this over into another argument. Everything felt far too raw for that. “I’m not questioning your sincerity. It’s just -- if you’d asked me two days ago, I would have told you that it didn’t matter to _me_ who my birth parents were and now -- I’m afraid that it _will_ matter somehow in a way that you’re not yet able to anticipate.”

“I can’t think of a circumstance in which it _would_ matter to me in a way that we couldn’t overcome. Though I’ll acknowledge I can’t see the future,” he allowed. “And for all that I’ll tell you that some things are more important than blood or family -- and I’ll _mean it_ \-- I do...understand what it’s like to have others judge you on that basis, you know?”

“I suppose you do.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, realizing that she hadn’t considered this aspect of his response so far. She knew, of course, how significant it was for Kai to believe that _anything_ was more important than blood -- no matter how casually he managed the conviction now, she knew what his upbringing had been like in that regard. But she hadn’t paused to think about the ways he might personally relate, despite all the times she’d witnessed other dragons finding fault with him simply due to his mother’s status. 

“You were the first person who knew what I was,” said Kai, finally pulling his hand away from hers to touch her cheek instead, “and made me feel that it didn’t matter. I thought it was absurd when you first said it, that you didn’t know what you were talking about -- but you’ve proven it at every turn. I’ll do the same for you. No less.”

“Kai,” she whispered, overwhelmed with gratitude for him, her throat tight and her eyes burning again. She couldn’t come up with anything else to say to that, the words refusing to form. She saw understanding in his eyes, though, and thought that maybe she didn’t need anything else.

“You still need rest,” he said gently, kissing her temple. “And to have that wrist rebandaged. We should finish up here.”

She nodded, accepting that this was another conversation to be had in stages.


	2. Chapter 2

“When was the last time _you_ ate?” Irene asked pointedly. 

She’d dozed off again at some point -- In fact, come to think of it, she couldn’t entirely remember getting from the bath back to the bedroom, or the fact that she was dressed again and the bed linens had all been changed, doubtlessly thanks to her sweating out the fever. So perhaps she had been more exhausted than she’d realized or wanted to admit. What mattered was that it was morning now, and Kai was standing at the side of the bed with a tray that held two mugs and a plate with an absolutely ridiculous amount of buttered toast he’d already identified as entirely for her.

“Recently enough,” said Kai, which of course meant the opposite, or he would have given her a more exact answer. He set the tray on the bedside table and handed her one of the mugs.

“Is there coffee?” she asked, because that clearly wasn’t what was in the mug.

“Tea,” he answered, as though she was asking what he’d just given her. “Herbal. Decaffeinated.”

She wondered for a moment whether he thought she was still far enough out of her mind that she couldn’t tell the difference between coffee and tea, or if he was just sidestepping the request. The latter was more irritating, but probably better on the whole. “What’s the point of a drink in the morning if it isn’t caffeinated?”

He sighed. “You don’t need caffeine right now. You need to rest.”

“I have an infected cut,” she said pointedly, “not some sort of flu.”

“All infections require rest.” He picked up his own mug and took a sip, as if that would be all it took to convince her of the tea’s outstanding benefits for this particular morning. “And that’s a deep puncture wound. I’d hardly call it a _cut_.”

Irene rolled her eyes. “I thought it was my job to be pedantic about language.”

“And you would be,” said Kai, moving to perch on the edge of the mattress, the tray still in easy reach, “except that your motive is to minimize your injury.”

She took a sip of the tea, which was, in fact, a rather delicious mix of smoky and sweet. “I’ll make do with this if you split the toast with me.”

He handed her the plate, which held at least six and possibly as many as eight neatly sliced pieces of bread, stacked in a way that only he could manage without things becoming unwieldy. “This isn’t a negotiation. You need calories to heal too.”

“So do you,” said Irene, taking a pointed bite of toast. The butter had the slightest hint of honey in it, and the taste abruptly reminded her that she actually _was_ quite hungry. “And don’t tell me that you aren’t healing. I saw what the chaos levels did to you. I know that takes recovery.”

He took another sip of his tea, then shrugged. “All right. If you insist.”

Irene blinked, surprised to have won him over so easily, even if he _was_ being overprotective. “Wait. Did you plan that intentionally? Did I just fall into your trap?”

He laughed and snagged a piece of toast, the tension between them easing again. “If I did, it would only be because I know you and want to care for you.”

Irene finished the first piece of toast and took another, swallowing with some effort due to an overly-enthusiastic bite. “I taught you too well.”

“You say that as if I’m finished learning from you. I most certainly am _not_.” He put down his mug and swung his legs up onto the bed, wrapping an arm around her as he continued eating, somehow miraculously without generating any crumbs. 

“I’m not sure I have much left to teach you beyond bad habits,” she grumbled half-heartedly, leaning into him. She was fairly certain the fever hadn’t returned, and she certainly wasn’t that sort of chilled anymore, but his warmth was always welcome. 

“Nonsense,” said Kai, and kissed the side of her neck between bites of toast.

“Did Vale leave?” she asked, vaguely aware that she was already most of the way through her second piece. 

He nodded. “This morning. Said he had some loose ends to tie up. As if he ever ties anything up without finding another thread to follow.”

Irene laughed weakly at that and shook her head. The reminder of Vale’s recent presence here brought the ghosts of nightmares and fever back to the forefront of her mind. It was strange how that happened after a disaster: One moment things felt normal, even light, and the next a multitude of demons had settled on her shoulders again. Well, not literal demons. One had to be careful using metaphors like that in an alternate where such things could actually manifest. 

Still, by the time they’d managed to jointly conquer the mountain of toast, her skin was practically crawling with unease, thoughts of all the reasons why nice, mundane moments like this were probably numbered running through her mind. There were any number of equally plausible threats to her life as she knew it currently, but this morning one in particular kept worming its way to the forefront. 

“You know,” she started, then paused and swallowed again, hard. A part of her didn’t want to say the words, wanted to bury this thought at the back of her mind and never exhume it again. But she knew herself too well for that, knew her own inability to ignore a potential threat. If she didn’t say it now, she would spend however long it took until she _did_ feeling as though she was about to lose everything. She had done that to Kai once before, and that was already too many times. “You remember the Grimm story. You remember what I -- what he told me in his library?”

“I remember all of what you told me,” Kai said gently. “But which part are you referencing now?” His tone suggested that he already knew, but wasn’t going to presume. A part of her wished that he would.

“He impregnated his sister.” She forced the words out, an accusation against an absent foe. “Which means that I -- Not only do I share blood with _him_ and every other atrocity he’s committed, I am the product of both rape and incest.” The words felt cold, almost clinical, but they also burned on her tongue like bile.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. For Alberich to appear in her head? For the room around her to burst into flames, now that she’d fully admitted to her origins? For Kai to push her away and be sick with disgust at having had any association with her at all?

Definitely that last. A part of her was certain that he couldn’t have put the pieces together on his own, couldn’t have figured it out already, because he was still here and treating her as though nothing had changed. She almost felt guilty for allowing it.

“I know,” he said gently, an undercurrent of sadness in his tone, but neither shock nor disgust. “I thought that must be part of what was bothering you.”

She pulled back a bit, not quite out of his grasp, but far enough to look at him with scrutiny. She knew Kai well enough to read him with absolute accuracy, she thought. But she still saw none of what she’d expected. “Are you saying it’s not bothering _you_?”

“Well,” said Kai, “I don’t like that it’s upsetting you, of course. And I have nothing but scorn for what Alberich did. But in terms of my opinion of you, I don’t see how it affects anything.”

“Because --” Her heart was pounding now, the fear paradoxically greater because he wasn’t reacting the way she had expected. It felt too good to be true. It felt like a trap, and not the sort designed to get her to eat and drink things that were good for her health. “Because I wouldn’t _exist_ if not for what he did. I am -- I’m his _legacy._ ” She choked on that last, and she wasn’t sure whether it was grief or nausea causing her throat to feel so tight. 

Kai took the empty plate and mug out of her hands, set them on the bedside table, and pulled her into an embrace that could only be described as fierce. “Irene. I know that you’re in shock. I know that it will take a long while for you to process this. But I _also_ know you are aware that even the most evil individuals, in spite of their intentions, can give rise to a legacy that’s good.”

Tears burned her eyes despite her best attempts at composure, and a few fell as she squeezed them shut. It would have been so much easier to be angry, though she was grateful for his compassion in ways she couldn’t even express. It took a moment for her to find words at all. “How about a legacy of spite? I think I could be very good at that about now.”

He huffed a soft laugh, running a hand over her back. “I’d support that.”

Irene took a few more difficult, deep breaths before opening her eyes and looking up at him again. “It really -- doesn’t bother you to be with me? Knowing what I am?”

“I know exactly what you are,” he said immediately, reverently. “You’re the person I love.”

“Kai,” she breathed, starting to cry again in earnest. She couldn’t even blame it on the fever this time.

He stroked her hair, guiding her head back to his shoulder. “I know you’ll want the logic of it too, so here it is: Rape is not a hereditary act. It has nothing to do with you. And incest does not carry the same taboo among my kind as it does yours. Breeding within a royal bloodline is common, often even arranged intentionally by mating contract. So while I wish for your sake that it wasn’t the case, there is absolutely nothing about this revelation that affects my opinion of or relationship with you.”

She sniffed, trying to swallow back a sob and only half-succeeding. “That was very good grammar.” She owed him more than that, though. “And I appreciate -- well, I was going to say the reassurance, but that’s incomplete. I appreciate _you_. All of you.”

“And I you.” He inclined his head in away that reminded her of the gestures of respect she’d seen him make toward his elders. 

Irene sighed. “And yet you and Vale almost got killed because Alberich wanted to get to me. Not to mention Sterrington.” She would have felt guilty about Sterrington being such an afterthought, considering that she’d come the closest of all of them to actually dying, but…she was still too tired to expend emotions on anyone other than the people she loved. She thought Kai would understand that.

“Which is a reason to hate Alberich,” he said patiently. “Not a reason to stop appreciating you.”

“You’re going to have an excellent counterpoint against any argument I make, aren’t you.” It wasn’t exactly like she was complaining about that, of curse. Self-destructive instincts aside, she had wanted reassurance and he had delivered in spades. 

“Against your guilt and self-doubt? Yes, I am. And I’m going to win every time.” His tone was confident to the point of actually being smug, and she knew she would have found it infuriating under any other circumstances. 

“I think I’m actually starting to believe that.” For the moment, at least. She wasn’t naive enough to think that the sense of relief she was feeling right now would last. Still, she wiped at her eyes, trying to regain her composure. “We should get out of bed. I’m sure there’s embassy business to be caught up on.”

“ _We_ aren’t going anywhere,” he said firmly, which was not exactly a surprise. “ _You_ are going to get some more rest. And don’t you try to argue with me. You were out of your mind with fever yesterday and I am _not_ going to let you push yourself. I’ll sit here and guard you myself if I have to.” She caught the briefest glint of red in his eyes on that last, and then he took a breath, rearranging his face into an expression of placidity that she didn’t believe for one moment.

Ordinarily, she _would_ have argued. She _hated_ being idle, even when her body might demand it. She had worked through injury and illness plenty of times before, even when it had been much worse than this. But she had seen the panicked anguish in his face after her fever had broken, was all too aware of what it must have been like for him to witness her delirium. Arguing with him now would be an insult to everything he had done to care for her. Sneaking out of bed after he’d gone would be a violation of trust on a level she wasn’t willing to contemplate. And he _was_ still recovering from his own chaos exposure. He didn’t need any more added stress.

“All right.” She caught and held his gaze. “I’m going to stay here and get more rest. Does that mean you’re planning to go downstairs and work?” He was dressed for it, she realized belatedly.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, if -- If you think you’ll be all right.” It was abundantly clear that he didn’t want to have her out of his sight, but was aware of both the necessity of working and the fact that she wouldn’t allow both of them to be indisposed for another day. 

“I’ll be fine,” said Irene, then considered how quickly her mind had wandered just over the course of eating breakfast. “Though -- Will you bring me some books, at least? I might find myself in need of a distraction.”

She saw him catch her meaning and then nod. “I think that can be arranged. Besides, it would be cruel and unusual to leave you without reading material.” He kissed her temple, then stood gracefully to go and fetch some for her.

* * *

Kai was still sitting at his desk in the public office when Irene made her way downstairs. It was well into the evening, and she had officially exceeded her limit with resting. There had been a blessed minimum of nightmares, and her wrist both looked and felt better. But she had never been good at rest or idleness of any kind, and now she _needed_ to at least move to another room of the house or she was fairly certain she was going to lose her mind again, in an entirely different way.

Kai didn’t look up immediately, focused on the correspondence spread across the desk in front of him. There was a fountain pen in his hand and she recognized his writing. The pages were clearly incomplete, though, trailing off to white space and riddled with scratch-outs. There was exhaustion in the hunch of his shoulders, too, and he didn’t turn or even seem to have noticed her presence. 

“Kai?” she said gently, aware that he could have an exaggerated startle response at times, particularly when he was lost in unpleasant thoughts. 

He didn’t quite jump, but he turned with a speed that reflected urgency, concern written all over his face. “How are you feeling? You look --”

“Better,” she broke in, and waved him off as she realized he was about to get up and make her take his chair. He still looked like he wanted to, but he sank back, following her lead. She moved to stand beside him, resting her arms so that he could see her wrist clean and freshly bandaged, like the proof that she’d been able to do it herself would negate all of his worries. In truth she still felt a very long way off from her usual self, but the improvement in the infection at least was definite and welcome. “I think I should be asking if you’re all right, though. When was the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine,” he deflected, his gaze still heavy on her, clearly evaluating whether he could feel reassured or not. “Can I get you anything?”

Irene crossed her arms. “How about an honest answer? I thought we were past hiding from one another.”

He recoiled visibly at that, his eyes darkening for a moment, but it wasn’t true anger. Her point had landed, and they both knew it. He took a measured breath. “I’m not hiding. It’s just -- you’ve been in no state to support anyone else the past few days. I don’t want to ask more than you’re able to give.”

That stung despite the fact that she knew it shouldn’t, that he was both right and giving her the honesty she’d requested. Still, it was hard to shake the sense that she needed to be strong at all times, needed to be in control. It was going to take more than a few months of practice. “Fair point. I appreciate your patience and your wanting to protect me. But I’m feeling better and it would help me to know honestly how you’re doing.”

“I’m…” His gaze flickered over her shoulder the way it so often did when he was searching for both words and the composure to say them. “I’m worried about you, obviously. The fever really scared me, Irene. And I’m also -- ashamed is the best word, I think -- that I wasn’t able to protect you.”

“Kai,” she breathed, her heart aching for him. She knew this part of him almost as well as she knew her own flaws at this point, and though he’d at least become more willing to share these things with her, he didn’t seem any less prone to self-flagellation. Probably that was another thing that would take time.

“I know,” he said, before she could respond further. “I know you’re going to tell me I shouldn’t blame myself. But Irene -- I promised to protect you from him and when it actually mattered, I _couldn’t even face him standing up._ ” He swallowed visibly, the muscles in his throat tense. 

She knew better than to try to talk him out of this conviction. She’d tried and failed at the same too many times before, and she understood how he was feeling besides. It wasn’t so different from her own shame at being ill, at needing time to recover. Instead she leaned over and hugged him, the difference in their height making it so that she didn’t have to bend too far. He tensed for only half a second before returning the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle and burying his face against her abdomen, his shoulders shaking. For a long while she held him in silence, running a hand over his back until she felt his breathing even out and some of the tension in his muscles give way. She knew better than to think he’d be able to let go of his guilt so easily, but it had helped. 

“Making my way through a fight is infinitely easier than --” She gestured broadly, unable to articulate the struggles of the past few days, “ -- all of this. Don’t discount what you’re doing for me now. I have never had this before and I know that you know it.” 

He stood without fully releasing her, pulling her close again as soon as he’d straightened, his grasp more possessive now. “I’m not discounting it. I’m glad to do it. I’m glad you let me. It’s just -- there would be no _this_ if you hadn’t made it out of the archive. And I can’t see how that wouldn’t have been my fault.”

“And I told Alberich he could have your body,” she pointed out, though saying the words aloud again was every bit as painful as driving the pin into her own flesh had been. “If my bluff had failed…”

His arms tightened around her, his breath warm against her neck, reminding her that her own temperature had resumed normal. “Then you would have found another way. You always do.”

Irene swallowed, his unshakeable faith in her weighty as always, but also a particular comfort now. “And if I hadn’t? You’d be dead, knowing that I’d told Alberich he could have you.”

“I’d have died glad that he hadn’t taken _you_ ,” he said fiercely, undeniably sincere. 

“Kai,” she breathed, her throat tight, the tears trying to reassert themselves yet again. “I don’t want that. I don’t _ever_ want that.”

He kissed her forehead, lingering. “It didn’t happen. We’re here. He’s not.”

She swallowed again, hard, simultaneously trying to suppress and say the words that had fought their way to the surface of her mind, demanding to be heard. They won, in the end, though her voice was very small. “You said that you loved me.” More than once now, in fact.

“Present tense,” said Kai, loosening his grip on her a bit so that he could lean back far enough to meet her gaze. He rested his palm against her cheek, the pad of his thumb trailing lightly along the pulse point at the side of her throat. “I _do_ love you.”

Irene couldn’t quite bite back the sob that dragged out of her, the utter tenderness in his voice equal parts wonderful and terrifying. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t start this conversation, would allow this part of their relationship to continue going unspoken. But like so many other things over the past several days, she found now that her needs were different than what she’d initially thought. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

He laughed gently, surprising her. “Irene. Since when has danger _ever_ deterred you?” 

“When it involves other people,” she insisted, though she knew that wasn’t exactly true either. She’d begun to accept that it was Kai’s choice to take the inherent risks of being in her life, and she thought he’d done the same with her. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” He was still holding her gaze steadily, the statement absolutely genuine. “You don’t even have to feel it. I just needed you to know.”

“But I do.” She was entirely unable to prevent the tears from spilling over now, her voice trembling as much as her lower lip. “I love you, and that has always been the problem, Kai. It all would have been much simpler if I didn’t.” _That_ was the sort of thing she had never expected to admit to herself, much less out loud. But it seemed small in the vast ocean of unexpected turns her life had taken recently, and at least it felt like a positive.

“How terrible,” said Kai, his voice reverent. He leaned in to kiss her lips, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head. When he pulled away again, there were tears in his eyes too.

“You know you’ll outlive me, don’t you?” she asked, her voice still rough with emotion. Her mind was already trying to throw out obstacles, reasons why telling him had been a bad idea. She knew that was her habitual paranoia talking, but sometimes paranoia was right, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to hurt him, though it was probably too late for considerations like that. “You have to know that.”

“Maybe,” said Kai. He touched the wet skin of her cheek, catching a few tears on the pad of his thumb, though she couldn’t quite seem to blink fast enough to stop them from falling. “Maybe not. None of us really knows, do we?”

“Well I certainly _hope_ you do,” she said fiercely, suddenly remembering his conviction only moments before that he would have gladly died preventing Alberich from taking her body. 

“Irene…” He shook his head and then hugged her again tightly. “I will gladly take every moment I get with you, be it five years or five hundred.”

It was strange, in a way, to suddenly find herself with this fear of hurting him. Or -- that wasn’t entirely accurate. 

She had always been afraid of hurting him, or of his being hurt in a situation she’d led him into. That had been one of her reservations from the beginning: that he was _her_ responsibility, that he was under _her_ protection, no matter what his draconic instincts might have him believe. She had felt from the start that allowing her emotions, her affection -- no, her _love_ \-- for him to bias her decisions was dangerous. Her fears for herself had always been of relying on him too much, becoming too accustomed to his presence only to have him leave or otherwise ripped away. And now here she was worrying that he’d be hurt because her mortality might necessitate that _she_ leave _him_ prematurely. It was really very unfair, the way one fear always seemed to morph into another instead of just resolving into nothing. 

“Then I’ll hope for five hundred,” she said finally, swallowing down the apprehension at what felt like a jinx. She knew there were some Librarians who did live centuries. Still, at the rate she seemed to encounter life-threatening events...Not to mention the way spending that sort of a lifetime with someone she loved felt like an absolute impossibility. But maybe it was time to stop worrying about tempting fate, which never quite seemed to work in the ways she expected or feared. Maybe there _was_ no fate -- only cause and effect and occasional coincidence. She wasn’t a Fae, after all. It wasn’t as if her life was bound by narrative elements. 

“And I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen,” he promised, kissing her forehead tenderly.

Irene took a breath and leaned back without letting go, taking him in again now that the intensity of the moment had subsided somewhat. “You look exhausted, Kai. How was the day?”

She saw the moment when he considered evading the question, continuing to put up the familiar facade that everything was fine, and then made the conscious choice not to. He was doing that more and more lately. They both were. “I am exhausted, though not because anything particularly notable happened. Lots of mail. Some paperwork for our newest signatories. And Sterrington stopped by briefly to let us know she’s out of hospital.”

“Oh.” Irene felt a momentary flush of guilt at the fact that Sterrington, only a few days out from a much more major injury, had been up and about and doing some semblance of business while she herself had been in bed. Then again, she was also grateful to have missed that particular meeting on this particular day. “How is she?”

“Fine, relatively speaking,” said Kai. “I filled her in.” He must have seen the alarm in her eyes, because he continued immediately. “On events relative to the assassination attempts and the treaty, Irene. Nothing personal. You know I would _never_.”

She took a breath and blew it out again slowly. “I do know. I’m just -- generally unsettled. I’m sorry.”

The tension drained out of him again immediately, and he reached up to wipe the remaining tears from where they were drying sticky on her cheeks. “I think that’s allowed. I also think it’s past time to be finished working for the day.”

“Oh good,” said Irene, offering him a weak smile. “Then I don’t have to chide you about pushing yourself too hard.”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll gladly cooperate. Shall we see about dinner?”

She nodded, and he kept an arm around her shoulders all the way down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

It was fortunate, Irene thought, that she had chosen that particular morning to return to work. After such an extended period in bed, she’d managed only fitful sleep overnight, interrupted by dreams that didn’t quite reach the level of nightmare but were filled with Alberich’s voice as well as her mother’s, and a letter from Coppelia she’d tried repeatedly to open only to have it fall to ashes again and again.

Kai had tried to convince her that another day of rest was in order, but there was no sign of the fever returning and the redness around the wound on her wrist had reduced considerably. And so she’d insisted, which meant that she’d been downstairs in their shared office, catching up on correspondence from other Librarians-in-residence posted to worlds with major powers that had signed up to the treaty, when Silver had arrived at their door. 

As Kai reluctantly ushered Silver into the embassy, he took off his coat to reveal a blatantly anachronistic Hawaiian shirt that gaped open almost to his navel, revealing the tan he’d apparently managed to acquire on his trip. On anyone else, it would have looked patently ridiculous. On him, it looked equal parts ridiculous _and_ alluring. 

Kai gave him a pointed, appraising look. “That’s...ah...a statement. I’m not sure anything it states is flattering, but it certainly _is_ a statement.”

“Well, we can’t all look like you, princeling,” Silver returned, in a tone that suggested both attraction and disdain. 

“Why leave the country when you can leave the alternate entirely?” Irene had assumed he had, since this world’s Hawaii was woefully lacking in resorts or other facilities he would have considered appealing. The shirt all but confirmed it. 

He shrugged. “A prudent step when one hears assassination attempts are afoot.” 

Irene sighed. “Ah yes. Prudent. Running off in the middle of the night, leaving your staff and your niece vulnerable. Thank goodness you had yourself to save your own hide.”

“I am a _very_ fortunate man,” Silver drawled.

“Why don’t we go and sit down?” Kai suggested, indicating the library they frequented for less formal meetings. He pointedly did not offer to provide any refreshments. 

Silver followed without comment, sprawling across the armchair nearest the door. Irene chose the couch because it was the furthest away from him and his glamour. It was both gratifying and a bit irritating when Kai sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, no doubt in case he needed to intervene.

Irene shot him a half-disapproving look. On the one hand, she didn’t like the implication that she might need Kai to rescue her from Silver of all people, as if she wasn’t an expert at resisting his power by now. On the other, it had been an incredibly unnerving few days and the whole world _did_ still feel somewhat off-kilter. She wasn’t about to object to having Kai by her side.

“So,” she said to Silver, attempting to refocus the conversation -- or perhaps to focus it in the first place. It wasn’t as if she thought he was here simply to show off his new wardrobe or to ensure their well being. Surely this visit had some strategic purpose or value. “Since you’re here, I assume you’ve learned that there’s no longer a danger of assassination attempts. Or at least no longer a danger of attempts by _those_ particular assassins. I suppose we could still be targets at any point in time.” Which was technically true -- She just wasn’t inclined to worry about it most days. 

“I had been told as much, yes.” He looked back and forth between the two of them, parsing their reactions for information as much as their actual words. Silver tried to make it easy to forget how intelligent he was, how skilled he was at spycraft in his own right, and it was part of what made him so dangerous. “I thought I’d come get confirmation from the source, though.”

“Wouldn’t the source be the assassins?” asked Kai. “Not us?”

He sighed haughtily. “Are you sure you didn’t become a Librarian after all? So concerned with the minutiae of language. Fine, fine, from a source.”

“And you think I’m a better source than your own spies?” Irene returned his heavy gaze, wondering what he was seeing in her. Was it obvious that her world had been so recently upended? That she currently had no idea how to think of herself or her place in the future? Was Silver one of the people who could see the resemblance between her and -- No. All of that was ridiculous. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should, little mouse. I daresay I’ve seldom met a better spy than you.” He smiled lasciviously at her.

“Seldom,” Irene repeated, “but not ‘never.’ And you’ve made me use a double negative. So, tell me what you’ve already been told and I may or may not fill in some of the blanks for you.” There were bits that he needed to know, because they could put the people around him in danger. But she certainly wasn’t going to respond to an open question by sharing absolutely everything for free. 

“I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you that _all_ I knew was that there was no longer a risk of assassination?” Silver asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” said Kai, sounding equal parts bored and skeptical.

Silver effected a pout in his direction. “I do believe I was asking the lady. Not that I think you’ve got any knowledge independent of hers.” He leaned forward a bit, fixing an expectant gaze conspicuously on her, a clear non-verbal repetition of his earlier question.

“Not a chance,” said Irene, echoing Kai’s tone.

Silver gave her a petulant sigh and rolled his eyes, as though she was doing this as a personal affront to him. Which, to be fair, was an added bonus. “All right. My intel says that the Guantes -- both of them -- were responsible for the assassination attempts. And that Lord Guantes was somehow resurrected by Alberich. I must admit, my prior information was that _he_ was also dead at your hand, little mouse. So, how about you start by telling me how his involvement was possible? Though I must say, your kill list is _impressive_ for a human.”

That last felt especially personal, and she had to remind herself once more that she was being paranoid, allowing her emotions to cloud her judgment. There was no possible way he could know the things she’d been pondering over the past two days. She was simply interpreting his normal interactions through the lens of her brand new existential crisis. She arranged her face into a careful expression of neutrality. “What do you know of Alberich?”

“Infamous traitor to the Library,” said Silver, as though that was an impressive accomplishment. “Skilled in chaos magic, though he isn’t Fae. Rumor -- though I must say, a common and consistent enough one that I’m inclined to think it’s _true_ \-- has it that he struck a series of bargains with Fae elders a couple of centuries ago in order to eventually father a child. Though no child’s ever turned up as far as I know, so perhaps it isn’t true after all.”

Irene felt Kai tense next to her, and knew from experience that this conversation was triggering the sort of protective instincts he found difficult to control. She couldn’t blame him -- It was taking all her years of skill and experience to avoid reacting, and even then, she wasn’t sure she was succeeding. Still, she had to divert the conversation before someone said something they couldn’t take back. “All I know for certain is the ‘traitor to the Library’ part. You may recall he was hiring Fae to try to kill me a few months ago, as well? When he also wanted to destroy the Library as a whole?”

“Yes,” said Silver. “And I seem to recall a certain affair involving him was what brought you to this alternate to begin with, wasn’t it? He certainly seems awfully enamored of you.”

She swallowed, every iota of her being on edge. Strange, how scarcely twenty-four hours ago, she’d felt broken beyond repair, unsettled to the exclusion of any of her usual skills. But now her voice was steady when she spoke. Apparently the strength she’d always managed to find in moments of true need hadn’t chosen to desert her yet. “I think you mean enamored of the opportunity to kill me. And as far as why he hates me in particular, well, let’s just say I’ve made it my job to be a nuisance to him when he’s trying to destroy the people and places I love.”

“You may have noticed that she’s _very_ good at her job,” Kai interjected, pride undeniable in his voice even if he was mostly just saying it to irritate Silver.

“The previous time I did that,” said Irene, before Silver could add anything to his advantage, “I essentially eliminated his physical form. But as you said, he’s skilled in chaos magic, so his mind -- his essence -- survived. He’s been working with the Guantes to use a certain type of artificial intelligence technology to implant himself into a new physical body. The attacks against myself and my associates were a type of vengeance. I suppose I can’t really blame him -- I _have_ spoiled an awful lot of his plans this year.” It was far from the most accurate or detailed version of events she could have given, but that was the point.

“And may I assume that you’ve spoiled this one as well?” asked Silver.

“For the time being,” she said honestly. “The Guantes are gone, for good, I believe. Alberich is still out there somewhere, though without an immediate avenue to do any harm.” Never again would she delude herself into thinking he was permanently out of the picture, though. Even if she eventually managed to eliminate him entirely, his blood ran in her veins.

“Well, excellent,” said Silver, with a level of enthusiasm that bordered on obscene, given the topic of conversation. “All’s well that ends well, and all that.”

“You are aware that Sterrington was shot?” Kai asked sharply. His expectations of loyalty and honor seemed perpetually to extend even to Silver, who clearly had none. “And that your niece was very nearly killed, seeing as how _you_ left her in our care while _we_ were being targeted?”

Silver waved him off. “I have it on good authority that Sterrington will be fine. And if she isn’t, well...her mistake staying in town.” He shrugged. “And Catherine would reject my help in the face of her imminent death. Speaking of which, I suppose I may as well say hello while I’m here.”

“That may be the slightest bit impossible,” said Irene, spirits lifting a bit at the change in subject. This _was_ what Silver had wanted, after all, and she really ought to be above gloating, but…

He leaned forward again. “Oh? Where is she?”

“In the Library,” said Irene. “Catching up on the fundamentals of her new position.”

His eyes widened in a way that was both comical and gratifying. But then his gaze turned contemplative, reminiscent of her own when sizing up a mark. “Well, well, my little mouse. The wonders you achieve truly never do cease.”

* * *

Kai was sprawled naked across the bed, the early morning light spilling in around the curtains setting off the blue tint to his hair, and softening the lines of his face, which was impossibly beautiful in every light. He smiled as he watched her wake, his expression all love, reverence, and devotion. 

_'He would do anything for you,'_ came Alberich’s voice in her head, shattering the serenity of the morning, horror taking her as she realized belatedly that she was not the only one occupying her body, was not even the one in control of it.

_'If you_ dare _touch him_ \--' She couldn’t do anything but furiously _think_ the words because Alberich was the one in control of her voice, her breath. She was nothing but a ghost in the back of her own mind.

_'That would hurt you, wouldn’t it?'_ Alberich sounded delighted. _'I would say it might kill you, except that you wouldn’t actually die, because I’m in control of that now. You would just have to exist with what I’d done, at least until I decided to stamp those last embers of you out.'_

_'Don’t do this,'_ she thought furiously, wishing that she could scream, that she could throw herself off of the bed or perhaps clear out the window. If she could will her heart to stop beating right now, if that would save Kai --

_'But you can’t do any of those things,'_ said Alberich. _'Ironic, isn’t it? You were so afraid that if you admitted your love for him, one of your many enemies would be able to use it to harm him. Turns out you were right. Shouldn’t have let your guard down.'_

_'Don’t,'_ she repeated, as she felt her own fingers close around a knife concealed under her pillow, realized what was about to happen. _'Please, please don’t, I’ll--'_

“Irene?” Kai’s voice, clipped and urgent, and also impossible because his lips weren’t moving. “Irene!”

The bedroom vanished as she came awake with a start, gasping. For a moment the disorientation was so strong that it felt as though she still wasn’t in control of her own body or mind, but then reality filtered in. She was on the sofa in the lounge, Kai kneeling in front of her, one hand on her knee and concern written all over his face.

“Don’t!” she gasped, scrambling away from him instinctively, the dream still fresh in her mind. 

Kai raised both hands slowly, staying where he was. “All right. I’m right here. Not doing anything.”

She pulled her legs up onto the couch and hugged her knees to her chest, then rested her forehead against them, trying to take deep breaths. It was a familiar position, though one she hadn’t taken in years -- decades, actually. Not since she was a child newly away at boarding school. If she was honest with herself, _that_ was the last time she’d felt so utterly helpless, so isolated from a world in which she was living. It had taken a long time for her to find her equilibrium then, to get used to the sense of both belonging and not. Here, she _had_ belonged, more than anywhere else except perhaps the Library, but now…

“Irene?” Kai asked again, his tone tentative, clearly concerned but not wanting to push too hard. “Can I get you anything? Are you feeling feverish?”

Her heart rate and breathing had begun to slow, and at least she no longer felt as though Alberich might still be controlling her body. She raised her head and looked at Kai, unsurprised but reassured by the mix of affection and concern on his face. He was still kneeling, hadn’t moved one bit while she’d had her eyes closed. “I don’t -- think so.”

“Can I check?” he asked, waiting for her nod before he shifted to sit on the couch beside her. He moved slowly, giving her the opportunity to stop him, as he raised one hand and pressed it against her forehead as he had previously. For a moment she wondered whether dragons had a keener sense of temperature than humans did, since he didn’t seem remotely interested in using the thermometer in their supplies. He exhaled heavily. “No, you’re not. You fell asleep reading.”

That was _very_ unlike her, particularly when she considered that she couldn’t recall much about it. Then again, this was an unusual level of exhaustion even for her. Glancing around, she realized that there was no book discarded on the floor or lost in the cushions, which meant that Kai must have rescued it. Good.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, though falling asleep was not the reason she felt the need to apologize. That was bigger and more amorphous. She felt as though she might need to apologize perpetually for her existence. 

“You don’t have to be.” His tone said he understood that she would be anyway, though. He’d been there plenty of times too. He gave her another appraising glance and then held out an arm, not close enough to touch her but clearly an offer. “Come here?”

There was a part of her that wanted to refuse, that said she _should_ deny herself comfort. It was the same part of her that wanted to tell him to leave, wanted to hurt him herself so that at least the timing of that inevitability would be certain. It was the part of her that thought maybe she _was_ a bit like Alberich at times -- driven, paranoid, willing to do anything for a mission. And more and more, questioning the motives of the Library itself.

She wanted _nothing_ to do with that part of herself, so she chose to do the opposite of what it wanted, leaning against Kai and allowing him to shift her into his lap. It took a moment for her to relax, but when she managed it, there was a fresh wave of emotion close behind. All at once she remembered the grief she’d felt upon learning of Coppelia’s illness, upon realizing how much of her life she was spending fighting and running. How she’d wanted to curl up and hide in the Library...only now it felt as though she’d lost the certainty of that sanctuary too.

“I’ve got you,” Kai murmured against her ear, and only then did she realize that her eyes were filled with tears yet again, that she couldn’t do anything to swallow the emotions back down. “I’ve got you, love.”

Irene buried her face against his shoulder, because it made her feel irrationally safer and also because all of this was easier if she didn’t have to see his face. “I -- dreamt that he killed you. Was _going_ to kill you. While wearing my body. You didn’t suspect anything, because you trust me. You never had a chance.”

He wrapped both arms around her, the warmth of his body an immediate comfort despite everything. “And as a result of the dream -- in which you were a victim -- you’re now feeling guilty?”

She sighed. “Of course it sounds silly when you put it that way.” She ran her hand along his back, toying with the seam of his shirt. The adrenaline was nearly gone now, leaving her feeling spent, more exhausted than before she’d fallen asleep and generally unwell on top of it. The infection might be improving, but her body hadn’t forgotten its toll quite yet. 

“On the contrary,” said Kai, his voice rumbling against her ear where it was pressed to his chest, “I empathize. You think I don’t have dreams where you’re hurt? Where I fail to protect you?”

Irene considered that. She knew that he had nightmares, of course, and had practically the whole time they’d known one another. It had started with Venice, she thought, and that in itself filled her with guilt. So much of what he’d been through in the past year had been because of his association with her. Then again, the more she learned about his life before they’d met… “He said -- that by admitting I love you, I allowed him to hurt you.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, a gesture she was beginning to recognize as his wish to alleviate her painful thoughts. “How surprising that the monster in your dreams would echo the things you fear most. Almost as if that monster and that dream were products of your own mind.”

She huffed a soft laugh at that, unable to deny the truth or the irony of that. She couldn’t properly articulate what a comfort it was to have someone who knew her so well and who loved her in spite of it. “Almost. How very surprising.”

Kai ran his fingers through her hair, silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “Love is _always_ a risk, you know. Romantic or otherwise. Whether we declare it aloud or not. Loving anyone means that what hurts them hurts you too, in turn. Why do you think loyalty and protection are so sacred in my culture?”

Irene swallowed, her throat tight again as she rolled those words over in her mind. It wasn’t grief this time, wasn’t fear. It was gratitude for him...and love, which was both the point and the problem at the moment. She’d always considered dragons as a race to be invincible, practically immortal, though of course she worried about Kai’s safety constantly. The broader logic of that had somehow escaped her until now. “That makes loving me a rather large liability, doesn’t it? My life is...far from secure.”

He shrugged. “The reverse is true as well: Hurting for another means that you love them. That you’d even make those considerations for me is a profound honor, Irene.”

“More than considerations.” She lifted her head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze. “I’m not -- very certain of who I am or where I stand right now. But I will give you everything I can, for as long as you want it.” It still felt inadequate, but they both knew how impossibly difficult that promise would have been for her even two months ago. 

“Likewise. As you know.” He rested one hand against her jaw, leaning in to kiss her very tenderly. “Though I wish I could persuade you that none of this changes who you are.”

Irene shifted in his lap, resting her chin on his shoulder and sliding one hand around to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and trying to slow her breathing to match it. “It does, though. Logically, I understand that I am more than genetics. I understand that learning the truth of my parentage doesn’t dictate my personality or my actions or anything else. But -- it _has_ changed me, knowing the truth of it. Knowing my relation to him has changed me, even if only in terms of perspective.”

Kai took a breath, clearly considering that, making the decision not to argue against it, much as he might want to. “I suppose that’s a fair point. I’ll allow that I am a _very_ different person, in terms of perspective, than I was before I met you. Not to say _that_ experience has been anything resembling the sort of trauma Alberich has subjected you to.”

“I don’t know,” said Irene, aiming for dry humor and almost achieving it. “Somehow you appear to be the sort of person who just stranded a preposition. I’m not sure I recognize you.”

He gaped at her for a moment before dissolving into helpless laughter, clearly heightened by the other emotions behind it. “Gods, I love you.”

She was surprised by the warmth that surged through her at hearing him say it so freely, so casually. She had been afraid of him speaking it aloud for so long -- and all of the implications that went along with it -- that she hadn’t even considered how badly she’d wanted it. “Me, perhaps. But not your poor orphaned preposition.”

Kai snorted, still a bit out of breath from his laughter, eyes glistening in the dim light of the lounge. “Oh, come now, if it was _orphaned_ that was hardly my fault. _I_ didn’t murder any objects tonight.”

Irene arched an eyebrow. “But perhaps you did some prior time?”

He shrugged. “If I did, it was for a good reason.”

“Kai…” She broke off in her own fit of laughter, overwhelmed with love for him, and relief for the fact that they were together and safe, at least for this moment. 

He pulled her close again, rubbing her back as the laughter faded. She wanted to hold onto the momentary warmth, the way there hadn’t been room in her mind for anything but it. Time was cruelly constant, though, and even as she tried, the multitude of other thoughts she wanted so badly to avoid began to filter back in. 

“How superficial would you think me if I admitted that the thing bothering me most at the moment was the thought that so many other people must have known the truth about me before I learned it for myself?” Her forehead was pressed against the side of his neck and she closed her eyes for a moment, opening them again as images of the nightmare threatened to reassert themselves.

“Not at all,” he said genuinely. “You know that I understand -- to an extent, at least -- what it’s like to have a reputation precede you. To have your parentage color others’ opinions of you. I can only imagine what it would be like to not be aware of it myself.”

She sighed. “Silver mentioned Alberich having a child. Do you think that means that _he_ knows too? Was that a strategic choice of words?”

Kai wrinkled his nose in a clear expression of distaste. “I dislike the words ‘Silver’ and ‘strategic’ being used in a sentence together.”

“But he _is_ , you know. Constantly.” Silver was as good at causing others to underestimate him as she herself was, albeit through extremely different approaches.

“Oh, I know,” said Kai. “That’s _why_ I don’t like it. Ordinarily I strongly prefer to be around others of high intelligence, as you well know. But with Silver…”

“You’d prefer if he actually _were_ the idiot he pretends to be,” Irene finished for him. Kai’s dislike of Silver was at least familiar, was oddly enough one of the few things in her life that felt completely unchanged at the moment. 

“Yes,” he agreed, then looked thoughtful for another moment before speaking again. “I don’t think he knows of your parentage, though. If he did, it wouldn’t simply have been one relatively vague remark. He would have made sure you _knew_ that he knew, if he didn’t outright gloat about it.”

“That’s true,” she allowed, “though I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the alternative. I’m not fond of the idea that Silver could blackmail me or otherwise spread gossip, but on the other hand, he _is_ a source of useful information at times.”

Kai considered that. “You said you wanted answers. Are you thinking of looking for those _outside_ the Library first?”

“I hadn’t given that any real thought yet at all,” Irene admitted, swallowing down the mix of anger and fear that was trying to climb up the back of her throat at the mere thought. She took a breath and forced herself to let it back out slowly. “My first instinct _is_ to go to the Library for answers. But that may just be what’s been trained into me. I don’t even know who I’d ask. Who might know.”

“But someone there must know.” It wasn’t a question.

“Part of me feels that _everyone_ must know,” said Irene, aware there was a note of petulance creeping into her voice. “You know, growing up there, being a student there, I sometimes felt that I couldn’t do anything well enough. I’d study as hard as I could, achieve all objectives set for me, and still be treated as though I should have done better. You might have noticed that I’ve never had many friends among other Librarians, that I generally preferred working alone before I met you.”

“I always knew I was special,” Kai said dryly, and she couldn’t resist a momentary smile.

“I just -- wonder now how much of that was because people knew,” said Irene, determined to finish the thought no matter how unpleasant it was. “I wonder how much of that was because they expected me to turn out like _him_.” She suppressed the urge to gag on those last few words.

“I agree with your conclusion that at least _some_ in the Library must be aware, if the circumstances of your birth are as we suspect,” said Kai. “But as to everyone, or even many people having that knowledge, I think you should consider the Library’s propensity for prying and gossip.”

“That’s true,” she said with a bit of relief. She had to admit it was unlikely that sort of widespread gossip about her could have existed for decades without her having heard so much as a whisper…”But it still leaves me without a real starting point, particularly with Coppelia ill and unreachable.”

Kai’s arms tightened around her, a silent acknowledgement of the fact that he was disturbed by the news of Coppelia’s illness as well. “Fortunately, this isn’t an assignment, and we don’t have to decide tonight.”

She didn’t miss the fact that he’d included himself in that future decision, allowed herself to be reassured that she likely wouldn’t be making it alone. “True.”

“Now,” he said decisively, switching subject, “more reading, or time to go to bed?”

“Both,” said Irene, as she so often did. 

_Please don’t ever leave me,_ said the voice of paranoia in the back of her mind. _Please stay, even when it hurts._

* * *

Kai crumpled the page he’d been scratching at with a fountain pen into a ball, then tossed it in a long, graceful arc into the trash can next to Irene’s desk. It was probably the dozenth one he’d crumpled and discarded in the past hour, but it was the first he’d disposed of so dramatically.

Irene recognized it as a sign that he was getting restless, wanted attention, but wasn’t quite willing to ask for it outright. On another day, at another time, she might have found it irritating, but in this moment, the distraction was welcome.

She put down her own pen and arched an eyebrow at him. “Did the trash can on your side of the room offend you?”

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. He didn’t actually put his feet up on the edge of the desk -- he was far too dignified, at least in this sort of public setting -- but the energy was most definitely there. “I just thought perhaps I should distribute things more evenly. Wouldn’t want your side to get jealous.”

“Oh, that _would_ be unfortunate,” Irene said dryly. “What are you working on, anyway?”

He shrugged, trying and failing to look casual. “A letter to my father. A report, of sorts.”

She considered that, attempting to tamp down the anxiety that still instinctively flared at any mention of his elders. Kai regularly made assurances that he wasn’t going to allow his family or dragon politics to come between them, and she believed that he was sincere in that intention. But she had also _seen_ his devotion to his family -- and his father in particular -- on plenty of occasions. If it came to a point where he had to choose between following his father’s wishes and remaining committed to her...well, she wasn’t delusional enough to think that she would take precedence. Still, Kai wrote to his father at regular intervals since the signing of the treaty, and he certainly had news to report now. 

“Are you responding to Shan Yuan’s complaint?” She had nearly managed to forget that Kai’s brother planned to petition for his removal. So that was one more worry to add to the ever-expanding list. “Or attempting to pre-empt him?” 

He sighed, pushing his chair back and standing. He didn’t quite pace, movement more relaxed than that as he wandered the perimeter of the room. “He has spoken with our father, from what I gather, but hasn’t made a complaint. I’m not -- entirely sure that he’ll follow through on that threat. Though if he does, it will be better for me to have my own report in first.”

“Do you think he was bluffing?” asked Irene. That was an appealing possibility, but the fact that it was attractive also made her distrust it. 

“Not bluffing,” said Kai. “At the time, I think he absolutely meant the threat and intended to follow through on it. But I suspect he may have rethought that idea later on. He has a rather hot temper.”

Irene arched an eyebrow. He sounded perfectly serious, the humor of what he’d just said apparently lost on him. “You don’t say. Your brother, with the _fire_ affinity?”

He blinked at her, clearly surprised, then threw his head back and laughed.

“Would you like to talk about your report?” she asked, when he’d calmed again. It was clear that it hadn’t been going well, and she could guess why -- Kai still struggled to find the right balance between pride and humility, and the amount of information he _couldn’t_ share complicated matters further.

He shook his head, though, coming over to perch on the corner of her desk. It was one of his spots, so frequently occupied that she routinely kept it clear of books or papers. “No. Not right now, in any case. I think I need a break. What are you working on?”

“Expense reports.” For both legal and...less legal activities that she nevertheless planned to report to the Library. Kai knew this was one of her least favored tasks, though, and one she tended to do only when she was avoiding others. “And thinking about whether to contact my own parents, funnily enough. My -- adoptive parents.”

Kai took both of her hands in his, which were warm as always. “Your parents. Do _you_ want to talk about that?”

She both did and didn’t. “I suppose that I should. I’m running out of ways to procrastinate as it is.”

He turned her hands palms-up in his, inspecting her wrist. It was still bandaged, but far less inflamed or painful. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“What _isn’t_ on my mind would be an easier question,” she sighed, then caught herself deflecting. “Well. Of course I’ve been wondering if they know -- about Alberich.”

He nodded. “And what do you suspect?”

Of course he knew her well enough to be certain that she already had a hypothesis. “I’ll be honest: A part of me wants to say no, of course not. They told me that they were approached by another Librarian who was pregnant, because they had wanted a child and she didn’t. Which is entirely possible. My adoption could have been orchestrated in such a way that they would never have known. That is exactly the sort of thing the Library would do, if necessary.”

“But?” Kai ran his hands over her forearms as though he could tell she needed it to ground her. Of course he could also tell that she had led with the theory she’d already rejected. 

“But my parents are _very_ good Librarians.” Her throat felt dry. “And they have been for decades. Which means that I don’t -- I _can’t_ believe that they’ve gone all this time without knowing. So perhaps they learned, either before or after adopting me.”

“Yet you’re avoiding contacting them,” said Kai. There wasn’t the slightest hint of accusation in his voice; rather, he was working out her train of thought as he spoke, as he so often did. She just wasn’t accustomed to the mystery being her own life. “Even though they could be a potential starting point for the answers you need. So you suspect something worse than their simply knowing and not sharing that knowledge with you.”

“Have you thought about the Grimm story?” asked Irene, watching his reaction. “And the timeline of when it was written?”

“I hadn’t.” She saw him make the connections quickly, though. “That would make you older than you’d thought, assuming that you are the child in the story as we suspect. By several decades.”

“Yes.” She swallowed with some effort. “In which case, either my biological mother would have been kept inside the Library so that her pregnancy couldn’t progress or -- or I was as a baby. Either way, I suspect that my parents didn’t just _happen_ to want a baby. I suspect -- I suspect that they may have been _assigned_ to raise me. To make sure I didn’t turn out like _him_.”

Kai hadn’t followed the train of thought all the way to the endpoint. She saw the shock and dismay as his eyes widened, though empathy that was almost painful followed immediately behind. “Irene. That -- certainly does have -- large implications.”

“That’s a kind way of putting it,” said Irene. She forced herself to take a deep breath. “I hope I’m wrong. I want to believe I’m wrong. But right now, I don’t think that I can trust them, even to ask. I’m not sure who I can trust at all.”

“Trust me,” said Kai, bending to kiss the backs of her hands. “And Vale. We may not have the answers you want right now, but we’ll do anything we can to help you get them.”


	4. Chapter 4

As a general rule, Irene avoided mirrors as much as possible. It wasn’t just because of her experience in a particularly high-chaos alternate where they tended to be haunted, or the occasional nightmares in which she discovered that she’d become a vampire by failing to see her reflection. Mainly it was the fact that she preferred to ignore her appearance -- beyond the most basic things like proper grooming -- except when it became a strategic matter as part of a cover. It wasn’t as though she’d ever been horrified by the way that she looked, it just...didn’t bring her any particular joy. And, all right, if she was being _fully_ honest, there was a certain amount of insecurity that was not improved by spending so much time in the presence of impossibly beautiful dragons or Fae like Silver.

This time, though, she paused in front of the bedroom mirror as she came in from the shower. She had become accustomed to viewing her features as plain, indistinct, unremarkable. She’d wished on more than one occasion that she could be more striking despite the strategic value of being nondescript in her line of work.

Now, though….now she’d been avoiding her reflection because she was afraid of what she might see. _'A resemblance,'_ Vale had said...And really, was that such a surprise? The first thing she’d thought upon seeing Alberich’s true face was that he looked ordinary. It had felt incongruous that there was nothing particularly distinctive about him despite his singular influence in her life. Was it really such a surprise that he shared her ability to blend into a crowd? Was it really such a surprise that she’d _gotten_ it from him? 

Looking in the mirror now, she saw his eyebrows, his eyes and jawline. Her hairline _wasn’t_ receding -- thankfully -- but the color and texture were the same. She bit her lip and watched it blanch in the mirror, feeling both detached from reality and incredibly foolish for failing to put these pieces together when they seemed so painfully obvious now…

Movement in the mirror startled her out of her thoughts, momentarily making her think it might be haunted after all until Kai came into focus behind her.

“You aren’t getting lost in there, are you?” He rested his hands on her shoulders, and though it was a gesture he made frequently, Irene had an intense moment of deja vu, a sudden flash of the last time they’d been here, just before the exhibition. Just before Alberich had found her and changed her reality forever.

Except -- 

Except that wasn’t entirely true, was it?

Certainly her confrontation with the Guantes and with Alberich had been significant, and the knowledge that he was still alive, still had the power to do untold damage, was a very real problem. But if she was being honest with herself -- admittedly one of her least favorite activities -- she had _felt_ the shock in him at the mention of _your own daughter._ He hadn’t been the one who’d upended her world, because he hadn’t known.

It was Vale who’d changed everything, and though she knew that he couldn’t truly be faulted, that he’d saved her life, she couldn’t deny the bit of resentment she felt toward him. 

“Irene?” Kai tried again, sounding concerned. 

“What? Afraid I’m going through the looking glass?" She’d aimed her tone at levity but knew that she hadn’t really succeeded.

Kai smiled, but it was strained. “You did look awfully far away just now.”

“I feel far away,” she admitted. “Or -- perhaps as though I’ve found myself in a different alternate than I’d intended, where everything is just the slightest bit off.”

“Has that ever happened to you?” he asked. “Have you ever been to an alternate that was almost an exact duplicate of another you’d visited?”

She knew that it was possible but unlikely, given the small number of Librarians and the many multitudes of worlds. “No. And even so, I’d still feel the same in myself. This is -- the opposite of that.”

Kai nodded. “The world feels the same. _You_ feel different.”

“You sound as though you’re talking from experience.” Irene searched his face in the mirror, trying to place what he was saying.

“Well yes,” said Kai. “Perhaps not quite as -- traumatic as this has been for you. But I did feel that my view of myself and the world was -- rebalanced after Venice.”

“Of course.” Irene instantly felt awful, both for failing to realize and for the hesitation she heard in his voice. It was obvious that he was reluctant to talk about it, the same way he always was but also clearly because he was still feeling especially protective of her. She turned and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right.” He stroked her hair, then ran his fingers through it. “As you said, you’ve had plenty of reason to be distracted. And it isn’t as though I was ever particularly willing to talk about it.”

“Still,” said Irene. “I obviously saw the effect it had on you. And after seeing the Guantes again, I imagine you might be freshly unsettled. How _are_ you doing?”

“I remain worried about you,” said Kai, running a hand up and down her back in a way that felt equal parts comforting and possessive, what she knew was an outward expression of his love.

“I haven’t had a fever in several days,” she reminded him. “And the wound on my wrist is closed, no sign of infection any longer.”

“That is not what I mean and you know it,” said Kai.

“I don’t know,” she told him, though she knew that they both knew it was a lie. In reality, she was challenging him to say it. “What worries you about me, Kai?”

He sighed, releasing her from his embrace and cupping her chin gently in one hand. “Your mental state, Irene. You aren’t delirious anymore, but you’re barely sleeping, and you’re still having nightmares every time you do manage to drift off. You can barely stop thinking about all the things in your life that have changed. And just now, you looked positively lost in your own reflection.”

“I’m not going insane,” she said sharply, taking a step back to pull out of his touch. She felt an immediate surge of anger followed just as quickly by overwhelming doubt and dread. Kai knew her far better than anyone else, which also meant that he understood the way his words would land. It wasn’t the sort of thing he would ever say thoughtlessly. “I don’t _want_ to be going insane. I don’t want to be -- _him_.”

“ _Irene,_ ” he interrupted, his voice soft but intense. “I have no doubts about your sanity. None. Have you forgotten what _you_ said to me after Venice? After I confessed to you that I’d been having nightmares? That I’d hallucinated in the prison?”

It was obvious that it still wasn’t easy for him to talk about, but he was doing it for her -- which meant that she had to do just as much in return. “I told you that it was normal. That having a reaction to that sort of trauma didn’t mean you were losing your mind. That you shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“Exactly,” said Kai. He took half a step toward her and rested his hand on her shoulder again, carefully. “I think that everything you’re experiencing is normal too. But it still concerns me for you.”

She rested a hand on her hip, somewhat regretting asking about his concern in the first place, though she knew deep down that he was trying to give her what she wanted and help. “What do you suggest I do about it? And don’t you dare suggest going to therapy, because I am _not_ going to do that. Even if I was willing -- which I am not -- can you imagine the absurdity of trying to explain my situation to an outsider?”

His eyes widened but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “I hadn’t even _considered_ suggesting therapy. And I must confess I cannot imagine that level of absurdity.”

She couldn’t help smiling at that, though she couldn’t deny the metaphorical weight that remained on her shoulders. “What _do_ you suggest, then?”

“Well,” said Kai, “Vale has been attempting to collect what information he can from his sources. I suggest we call on him for dinner.”

“Oh.” Put that way, it seemed so simple. In many ways, it felt as though she’d known Kai and Vale far longer than a year. In others, it still felt new, still easy to forget that she could count on them both, that she didn’t have to come up with all the answers on her own. She didn’t even have to search for them alone. “I suppose I should get dressed, then.”

* * *

There was something that felt undeniably symbolic about the fact that Vale had chosen the restaurant where they’d first met. It wasn’t as though it was an infrequent place for them to take meals. Despite Kai’s longstanding conviction that it was ‘a cheap hole in the wall,’ he never complained about returning. And the fact remained that it was one of the few places nearby that served food unadulterated by the trendy chemical and other experimental alterations that were becoming increasingly widespread. It also didn’t hurt that it was quiet and lowkey enough to be relatively secure -- from anyone less observant than Vale, she supposed, which was essentially everyone else in this alternate.

Still, something felt different, felt more meaningful about this evening in this place. The weather wasn’t helping either -- instead of the perpetual grey dampness of the winter, warm air was beginning to push its way in. Currently it had exploded into the sort of thunderstorm that inspired mediocre writers to produce cliche atmospheric lines. That wasn’t a reason to feel anxious, Irene told herself. If anything, it was a reason that she _shouldn’t_. And yet she couldn’t quite swallow down the sense that another paradigm shift was coming, that as much as she’d somewhat entered this world in this place, she might be on the verge of leaving it for good across the same threshold. 

Vale was already seated at the table they frequented most often and there was already food at each of their places.

“I took the liberty of placing your usual orders,” said Vale, as Kai pulled out a chair for Irene.

“Thank you,” she told them both, as Kai took his own seat. She tried to muster a smile that looked calmer than she felt and knew that they would both see through it anyway.

“How are you feeling, Winters?" asked Vale, as though he hadn’t already formed his own conclusions about her health.

“Better,” said Irene, pulling up her sleeve for a moment to show them both her wrist, which was continuing to improve.

He nodded. “As I had expected for the infection.”

She sighed. “Let me guess. You’re going to tell me that you remain concerned for my mental state.”

“No,” said Vale. “Not precisely. I expect Strongrock has already expressed his concern and thus you already know we both feel the same way.”

She took a sip of wine and looked back and forth between the two of them, as always when they did this, wanting to be irritated but unable to feel anything other than affection. “Yes, you are both aware that I’ve been -- unsettled. And that I have many questions as I’m sure you also do.”

Kai buttered a roll with impressive precision, then handed it to Irene before taking another for himself. “You know, you truly do have a talent for understatements.”

“And we are well-matched, given your flair for dramatics.” She took a bite of the roll and swallowed, realizing abruptly that she was very hungry. She had a bad habit of forgetting to eat when she was stressed or when her mind was working on a problem.

“Well,” said Vale, sipping his own drink, “I have spent the past several days searching for answers to those questions, and I must tell you, I worry that you’ll be disappointed.”

“Because the answers are bad news, or because you haven’t found any answers?” She took a forkful of potatoes from her plate and ate them before Vale could answer and distract her.

“The latter,” said Vale. “Or rather, I have _some_ answers, but they are mostly due to the absence of certain happenings and information.”

“Are you building up suspense intentionally?” asked Kai. It was the sort of thing he would only be comfortable saying to Vale, the sort of semi-sarcastic biting humor he’d picked up from the former in the first place.

“That’s far more your style,” Vale retorted, but it was good-natured.

“What information _didn’t_ you find?” asked Irene, feeling increasingly impatient, increasingly full of that peculiar urgency she couldn’t entirely explain. She had wanted nothing more than to be at home, to be relaxed, to feel that her life had returned to normal if only for a limited time. But it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t _going_ to happen. Home didn’t feel like home anymore. Normal was unattainable.

The only way was forward, into the unknown.

“Well,” said Vale, “as you are aware, Lady Guantes had formed a complicated web of organized crime, with herself at the center. Her sudden absence leaves a power vacuum amongst the darkest forces in this world. They have no leader anywhere, nor is there any trace of contact from Alberich, despite the fact that he certainly remains in the game from some vantage point.”

“Game?” Kai echoed, his expression darkening.

Vale nodded. “For lack of a better term. As you may have noticed, this alternate appears to a -- ah -- fulcrum of sorts between the various powers. Certainly that’s true in part due to the presence of the Embassy here, but I believe it was true before that as well. I don’t believe the Library assigned the two of you here by chance.”

“I confess I’ve had similar thoughts," said Kai.

“It _is_ hard to believe that we were assigned to steal the one book in all the worlds that Alberich wanted most by random chance,” Irene agreed. “Before this, I would have said that I didn’t understand why they chose me rather than a more senior Librarian....but I suppose I don’t wonder that any longer.”

“And I have no doubts that you have had your world absolutely rocked by that revelation.” Vale looked genuinely anguished for a moment before he continued. “And while I wish I could say that you have all the time you need to think it through and recover, I don’t think that you do.”

Irene sighed. She was beginning to feel that every other exhalation was a sigh, and she didn’t like what that implied about her. “I had a feeling that was going to be the case. Do tell us why.”

“As I said, there is a power vacuum,” he repeated. “And the assassination attempts, particularly with the near-successful attempt on Madam Sterrington’s life, have promoted the sense that gaining control of this world, and in conjunction either destroying the treaty or using it to exert power on the members thereof may actually be possible. I have it on good authority that a number of powerful Fae are preparing to make a move.”

Irene glanced at Kai. “Have you heard anything about dragons doing the same?” She knew better than to think they _all_ were behind the treaty, no matter what Ao Guang might want outsiders to believe. She’d seen for herself just how far some would go to undermine peace.

“No,” said Kai. To her surprise, though, he didn’t even bristle at the suggestion. “But...If there were such plans afoot, I most certainly _wouldn’t_ be informed about it. Precautions would be made to ensure that I had no inkling.”

She resisted the urge to sigh yet again. “So what do you suggest I do?” Of course the responsibility would land on her shoulders again, because it always did. Because even with Kai and Vale at her side, there was no denying that _she_ was at the center of Alberich’s sights.

“ _We_ need to find out more about this world,” Vale said pointedly. “And its connection to Alberich. Which means that _we_ need to go back to the Library with a very specific objective.”

* * *

“Irene?” Kai’s voice, from the lounge outside of their shared room. It was strange, she thought, that he was calling to her instead of just coming in. And there was something in his voice -- an undertone that she couldn’t quite read. “Irene, come out here please.”

It was late and she was in bed, a book propped on her chest. Ordinarily he would know better than to interrupt, or wouldn’t unless there was a true emergency. Sucking in a breath and running a hand through her hair, Irene rose to her feet, walked into the lounge, and froze.

Kai was fully dressed, including coat and hat. Not only that, but he had a suitcase in one hand and a heavy leather bag slung over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Irene crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed in the thin fabric of her nightdress.

“Isn’t it obvious?” His voice was cold. That was what was different about it, she realized suddenly. 

“No,” said Irene. “No, it isn’t. _What are you doing?_ ”

“I’m leaving,” said Kai, lips curling upward into a sneer. “You didn’t actually think I’d stay, did you? A dragon of the royal blood and...whatever you are?”

For a moment all she could do was choke on panic, on betrayal. It was shocking, of course, but somehow it simultaneously felt inevitable. “You said you’d stay. I trusted you.”

He huffed a cruel laugh. “Irene. Please. You know I learned all of this from you.”

“You said that you loved me.” Her voice sounded very small and very young in her own ears. She searched his face, his eyes desperately, looking for a tell. For a moment she wanted him to be an imposter, to be Alberich or a body puppeted by a cerebral controller. She wanted those things even though it would mean he was dead, she realized and immediately felt sick with guilt.

She found no sign of deception, though -- only genuine disgust and loathing in his face.

And really, was that such a surprise? That he’d come to view her the way she knew herself?

She came awake with several false starts, trying desperately to shake herself, to fight back against the sensation that she was being smothered. It took a gargantuan effort to finally open her eyes, drawing in shallow, gasping breaths against a throat tight with despair. She was awake now, recognized on some level that she’d just had yet another nightmare, but the emotions it had left in its path were as real as the rain pelting in sheets against the windows.

Kai was in bed next to her, still asleep, and she’d no sooner managed to reassure herself of his presence than she found her vision blurred with yet more tears. She’d cried more in the past few days than in all her adult life combined, she thought, but there apparently wasn’t an end in sight.

She’d felt this fear of losing her home before, not so long ago when they’d first established the Embassy. But she’d adjusted quickly, become comfortable here just in time to lose it all again.

And Kai…

Kai had been the one constant in her worries practically from the moment she’d met him but certainly since he’d resigned his post as her student, since they’d become lovers. When she allowed herself to be honest, he was the thing in all the worlds that mattered to her most: More than her position, more than books. More even than the Library itself.

And yet here she was _again_ at a crossroads where she couldn’t see a way around losing him. It wouldn’t be the way she’d dreamed, she knew, but it would be no less devastating or cruel.

As if sensing her thoughts, he stirred beside her, and she pressed her face into the pillows, trying to stifle a sob.

“Irene?” His hands on her back and his voice in her ear, simultaneously nothing like the dream and exactly the same. “Another nightmare?”

She nodded miserably, trying to pull herself together enough to avoid worrying him unduly.

“Alberich again?”

“No.” Her voice was muffled by both tears and pillow, but she knew that he would still understand. “You. Leaving.”

“Irene.” Her name was a pained sigh on his lips, so very different than in the dream, yet an echo all the same, like icy fingers down the back of her neck. “Irene, look at me.” 

It was the last thing she wanted to do in that moment, imagining his face, his eyes full of the cold cruelty she’d just seen in her nightmare. She knew that was irrational, though, knew it was yet another sign of all the ways she’d lost her composure -- no, had it taken from her by Alberich, by Vale’s revelation. She didn’t want to be that person either, afraid of ghosts and mythical monsters on ancient maps. She had plenty of _real_ monsters to fear, but those weren’t the ones that were bothering her now. She would _not_ be a captive to her fears.

Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, she rolled over, wiping at her eyes. Her vision was still a bit blurred with tears she refused to let fall. She could see the concern written all over his face, as well as his relentless faith, and love that she couldn’t deny. That not even her worst fears could negate.

“Irene,” he tried again, touching her cheek. There had always been a particular _something_ about the way he said her name -- right from the start, on the first day they’d met. She couldn’t find a word for it, couldn’t describe it in any of the languages she’d encountered, except to say that it felt as though he’d identified her as something sacred, a cardinal direction in the endless flow of time and space between worlds. Even now, when _she_ felt so very different, her name on his lips was steadfast and sure. “Irene, I know that you’re afraid. But I swear to you, I will never --”

She cut him off with a kiss, feeling him stiffen in surprise for the briefest instant before returning it. All at once, she realized that words weren’t enough. Words and languages had played a pivotal role in her life, were simultaneously her most valuable tool and her worst enemy.

But words had been used to deceive her, to perpetuate her ignorance to the truth of her existence. Words had been used by her parents, by her teachers, by the Library itself. Words were a weapon, but they weren’t the assurance she needed right now.

“Don’t,” she murmured against Kai’s lips when they broke apart for air. “Don’t tell me. Show me.”

There had been a time not so long ago that he would have needed more direction, more assurances of his own. But they had moved beyond that without so much as realizing, and he didn’t hesitate.

Kai had months of experience now in assisting her out of her clothes, and it wasn’t as though her nightdress posed any sort of challenge compared to most garments in this alternate. He made equally quick work of his own clothing and then he was kissing her again, the lengths of their bodies pressed together skin to skin. It had been days since they’d had any opportunity for this sort of intimacy, and though there’d been much longer periods in the past, Irene found herself desperately starving for it now in a way she once again was uncertain she’d ever felt before. She didn’t have a chance to wonder whether he was feeling the same, sensed it in his frantic kisses, in the way his hands roved over her body, in the heat of his erection pressed between them. 

Irene went willingly when he gently nudged her onto her back. Even now, with months of love and trust between them, she tended to gravitate toward positions of power, of control. Now, though, she wanted nothing more than to give that up, to allow him to lead and to reassure. She rolled her head back on the pillows, baring her throat as he settled between her legs and sank down into her.

The storm was reaching a new fever pitch outside as he began to move, the wind howling and tearing at the shutters. It was like something out of a particularly cliche gothic novel, she thought, as a well-timed flash of lightning illuminated the scale patterns on the pale skin of his face. She loved him, she thought, as she clutched at his back and rocked her hips up to meet his. She loved him, and she had always loved him, simultaneously her salvation and despair. They were wrapped up in something bigger, something vast as the ocean, clinging to one another like two castaways on a raft in an otherworldly gale. She thought of chaos and Alberich, of Lady Guantes, sacrificing any remnant of a soul in her quest to restore love lost.

She thought of Kai and Paris, how she’d once believed they’d only ever have one night.

This felt the same, only the certainty -- the inevitability -- was magnified infinitely, more than she could fathom.

She came with fresh tears on her cheeks and a cry like the wind outside. Kai was only a moment behind, gathering her into his arms and pressing his face to her neck, shoulders shaking.

“If I go to the Library for answers,” she told him, an indeterminate period later, when she’d regained the ability to speak, “you know that there will be a cost.”

“If _we_ go.” Kai stroked her hair, breath warm but still a bit uneven against her ear. “And I am aware.”

“Are you?” she pressed, thinking of the dream again. “Truly?”

“We’re going to demand answers,” said Kai, “which isn’t likely to make anyone happy. You could be stripped of your position, your brand, or worse.”

“Yes.” She swallowed, voice feeling thick in her throat. He did understand, no matter how much her doubts tried to insist that he couldn’t. "The chance that I’d be able to retain my position at the Embassy, to work or even _be with_ you in any official capacity…”

“Irene.” And there it was again. He leaned back just far enough to meet her gaze, brushing hair out of her face and cupping her cheek. “I hope that this goes better than we fear. I’ve seen you do the impossible before. But if it comes down to a choice between you and _anyone else_ \-- It’s you, Irene. It always has been.”

In that single moment, she believed him.

* * *

The British Library felt unnaturally quiet. Irene couldn’t be certain whether that was due to the early hour or the anticipation building beneath her skin.

Technically speaking, there were enough books in the Embassy’s library to have left from there. But this felt right, or as close to that as anything could at the moment. She would take what she could get.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she waited for nods from both Kai and Vale, who stood scarcely half a pace behind her.

She took a breath and placed her palm against the familiar door, certain for once that this was entirely her decision. **”Open to the Library.”**

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this, please let me know. :)


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